


Savoring

by zarabithia



Category: Avengers (Comic), Marvel 616, Young Avengers
Genre: Community: fanfic100, Community: schmoop bingo, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-07
Updated: 2010-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Excitement and adrenaline drives both Hawkeyes. But that doesn't mean they don't savor the down time when it comes their way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Savoring

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompts: "playing an instrument" @ schmoop_bingo and "where" @ fanfic100.

In the beginning of their relationship, every shower that Clint and Kate took, they took together. In the early days, when every moment they spent together involved at least one of them thinking about a new and exciting way to have sex, they'd been so sure that a brand new revolutionary sexual position was just one bottle of spilled shampoo away.

And those shampoo bottles had been spilled plentifully, because despite neither of them being virgins, finding an adequate position to accommodate the span of both sets of archer shoulders and two equal amounts of enthusiasm while avoiding any positions Kate would have found triggering was difficult.

Showers just weren't built to accommodate two heroes wanting to have sex. That didn't keep Clint and Kate from trying.

Of course, their relationship had since cooled down from the must-have-sex-at-all-times tizzy, as all relationships eventually did. As they grew more comfortable with each other, and the his or her bathrooms became _their_ bathroom, taking time to wash off the daily grime that came with being Avengers took precedence over horny interludes - at least until they were clean enough to make it to the bed.

So, after having lost the coin toss to go first, Clint waited not so patiently for Kate to finish in the shower. Then, when it was his turn, he turned the hot water on as hot as it would go - he would never stop being thankful for a girlfriend who preferred quick, efficient showers to long ones - and stood under the water for a full minute before moving to pick up the soap.

Head tilted down, Clint stood under the shower head, soap gripped in his hand, until long after the hot water ran out. The Avengers had needed a lot of a lot of rain in the last battle, to prevent the gas lines from adding fire to their problems, and as grateful as Clint was for Thor's intervention, he was less grateful for the muddy result of Thor's powers. Regardless of the thoroughness of Clint's costume, every type of debris from their battles managed to work its way through. Clint had no idea how Kate's much less thorough costume avoided that hassle, or if it even did, because every time he broached that subject, Kate snarkily reminded him about "the skirt era." And really, what was there to say to that?

Once the water was cold and running clear into the shower drain, Clint gave himself a quick run over with the soap, an even quicker rinse, and turned off the water. As he towled himself off, he could hear the faint sounds of Kate's cello through the door. Humming softly in tune to the melody, Clint slipped on a clean pair of boxers before walking down the hallway to join Kate.

The apartment was small - much smaller than what Kate could afford, or even what their combined Avengers' salaries could afford. But Kate liked it that way, and Clint had never needed a lot of space. As a result, the living room, home only to a couch and a very movable TV, often served as a place for Kate to unwind with her instrument.

Clint leaned lazily on the couch to watch her play. With the cello between her legs, and her chin tucked down, Kate bit her bottom lip in concentration. The draw of the bow was as confident as a similar maneuver in battle, but much slower. Also unlike battle, her muscled arms were bare, and Clint was free to marvel at the bridled strength that rippled through them with each stroke.

Oh, and marvel he _did._

They didn't, after all, get a lot of opportunity to have down time. The few times they did, both he and Kate were smart enough to savor, because those moments would need to tide them over through the next rash of battles.

As much as Clint loved to watch her work, and as much as that shared thrill of fighting the good fight was what drew Clint to Kate in the first place, watching Kate in a rare moment of calm was also something he loved. This wasn't what she lived for, it wasn't what she woke up thinking about or dozed off and dreamed about - but it made her happy, even if it couldn't touch the joy she felt with the other kind of bow.

She looked damn good doing it, too, which also contributed to Clint's desire to watch - right up until the point that she stopped.

"Enjoying the show, Barton?"

"You know I always do, Lady Hawkeye."

"Still a terrible nickname."

"Still an _awesome_ nickname."

"Still a miracle you ever get laid."

"Speaking of..."

"Hmm." Kate set the cello and bow aside and leaned forward, her palms on her knees. "Bed or couch?"

"Bed has more room..."

"Couch is closer."

"And that, Kate, is why no one can ever argue that I don't love you for your brain."

Kate laughed as she stood up and removed her top. "Oh, I think they'll argue that you love other parts, too."

Arguing with a woman when she was stripping in front of him was never a very wise plan, Clint figured. And it was simply ungentlemanly to argue when she was pushing him onto his back on the sofa.

Which was why, when Kate kissed him and murmured, "Let's take our time getting dirty again so the hot water has time to catch up," Clint was happy to oblige.


End file.
